"What an answer!" replied Donagan. " If that is your style of seamanship—"
"Look out for the wave astern!" said Moko. "Lash yourselves, or you'll be swept overboard—"
The boy had not finished the sentence when several tons of water came with a leap over the taffrail. Briant, Donagan, and Gordon were hurled against the companion, to which they managed to cling. But the negro had disappeared in the wave which had swept the deck from stern to bow, carrying away the binnacle, a lot of spare spars, and the three boats which were swinging to the davits inboard. The deck was cleared at one blow, but the water almost instantly flowed off, and the yacht was saved from sinking beneath the flood.
"Moko! Moko! " shouted Briant, as soon as he could speak.
"See if he's gone overboard," said Donagan.
"No," said Gordon, leaning out to leeward. " No, I don't see him, and I don't hear him."
"We must save him! Throw him a buoy! Throw him a rope!" said Briant.
And in a voice that rang clearly out in a few seconds of calm, he shouted again,—
"Moko! Moko!"
"Here! Help!" replied the negro.
"He is not in the sea," said Gordon. "His voice comes from the bow."
"I'll save him," said Briant.
And he crept forward along the heaving, slippery deck, avoiding as best he might the blocks swinging from the ropes that were all adrift. The boy's voice was heard again, and then all was silent. By great effort Briant reached the fore-companion.
He shouted. There was no response.
Had Moko been swept away into the sea since he uttered his last cry? If so, he must be far astern now for the waves could not carry him along as fast as the schooner was going. And then he was lost.
